No Bravery
by Madison Dyann
Summary: After their father is taken captive in King's Landing, Allyria Stark follows her brother to war and finds trouble adjusting to her new role.
1. Surrender

Allyria was terrified. Was she more or less terrified now that she forced onto her feet after her horse had been slaughtered, she could not say. Her arm had grown heavy, but her heart continued to beat faster, ignoring her exhaustion. The noise of it blocking out the sounds of the battle around her. A man dressed in red armor swung at her. His wide arch of a back swing missed her entirely and she took the opportunity to plunge her own sword into the unprotected space below his helm. The sword cut into the man's throat with ease and blood sprayed from the wound and onto Allyria's armor and helmet. _Nine_. She thought to herself, as she tried to wipe the blood from her line of vision. But the blood had made it through the eye slits and onto her face.

In an act of frustration and desperation, Allyria tore off the metal helmet and tossed it to ground. A bundle of auburn hair, braided tightly together, fell down her back as she wiped the blood from her face. As she looked around the field, she knew they had lost. Even now, she could see Bolton retreating back over the hill with what remained of his force, which was a small number. _Damn that man._ Their force of a mere two thousand wasn't intended to win the war, but she cursed the commander nonetheless for giving up so easily. And for leaving her behind. Dead bodies laid at her feet. Some Lannister men. Most Northerners. As she looked down, a bodily mess of a man took hold of her ankle. He was dressed in silver armor, with a red shield lashed to his left arm. The shield bared the sigil of House Umber, a roaring giant, brown-haired and wearing a skin, with broken silver chains around it's wrists. The man had be stabbed under the arm and was slowly bleeding out. His brown eyes, full of fear and sadness, looked at Allyria as he opened his mouth to saying something. Only blood spilled out. With an uneasy feeling in her stomach, she removed the small dirk from its place in her boot and knelt. She closed the man's haunting eyes, and with a shaky right hand, slit the man's throat. His grip on her ankle loosened after a second. _Ten._ Though she wondered if he counted.

When she stood up, sword and dike in hand, she was surrounded. She counted twelve weapons pointed at her, some closer than she liked. The battle seemed to be over just as fast as it had started. The sound of steel on steel was greatly overshadowed by the sound of the wounded. Allyria's heartbeat was louder still. There were not just swords aimed at her but a manner of axes and spears and dirks. Only three of the men looked to be actual bannermen of Tywin Lannister. The other appeared to be sellswords of some sort; big hairy men with steel half helms wearing thick animal skin and little armor. "Drop your weapons, girl." One of the red cloaks demanded, taking a brave step forward and sticking his sword in Allyria's face. The insult on the word '_girl_' was not lost on Allyria, but she dropped her weapons nonetheless.

"What's your name, girl?" The same man said. _Well, it's most certainly not 'girl'. _She thought as she started to open her month to voice the lie that had already situated itself in her mind. It would not do well for these men to know who she truly was. But she never made is that far for another man joined the group. He was short, half the size of a normal man, and his face bloodied from a head wound. But the wound must not have effected his mind because he spoke with the same all-knowing tone he had when Allyria had met him a couple of months past. _A lifetime ago it feels like._

"Watch your tone, ser." The dwarf said, coming to a stop between two of the strange sellswords, who made him look even smaller. "You are speaking to a lady. Lower your weapons." Each man did so at his own pace. Tyrion had yet to name her and a part of her still hoped that he had forgotten her. She was still in control of the situation. In a sense. But the control was short lived. "Escort Lady Stark to my father. Unharmed, please." Tyrion Lannister commanded, never looking away from Allyria.

Her escorts removed her armor first, perhaps believing that she was less likely to resist if she was unprotected. She was left in a long brown linen tunic, and baggy leather breeches. When one of the red cloaks started to remove her boots, she kicked him in the face. He responded with a punch to her face and proceeded to remove her tall leather boots, leaving her to walk in her stockings. The only thing they gave her was a pair of iron shackles locked around her wrists. There were made for a man and the iron rings hung loosely from her wrists. With her hair almost completely fallen out of the braid, shacked, shoeless and face covered in blood, some of it hers, most not, Allyria was escorted to a rather large tent built on a raised wooded platform. The tent was a deep red. _Always_ _red_.

Despite her lack of resistance, she was still thrown rather roughly to her knees once they entered the tent. She was placed beside a long oak table. Seated around it were a number of men, some still in armor, some not. At the head of the table, and nearest to Allyria, sat who she assumed to be Lord Tywin Lannister. Older than her father, Tywin was a tall, slender man with broad shoulders and short blond hair, that was slowly giving way to grey. His green eyes were rumored to be freckled with gold but Allyria dared not met his glaze long enough to find out. Everyone was staring her, with her bloody face and tangled hair. She thought about her mother, and how she would not have approved of her appearance in the slightest.

"Who are you?" Tywin asked, never taking his eyes off her. Gathering up what little courage she had, Allyria clenched her teeth, intent on not answering and returned his stare. She decided that the rumors were true, for she could make out bits of gold in the green of his eyes. Her silence earned her a slap across the ear from one of her escorts. She bit her cheek, forcing back an insult. Movement in the tent caught her attention, and she saw Tyrion Lannister take a seat of the table and give her a knowing look.

She sighed softly, defended. "I am Allyria Stark of Winterfell. Daughter of Lady Catelyn Tully and Lord Eddard Stark, Warden of North and Hand of the King." She said in single long breath. Some men shifted in their seats to look at her anew while Allyria forced her face to remain apathetic.

"Why are you here, girl?" One of the men at the table said, rather harshly.

Allyria made a face at the lack of usage of her proper title of 'my lady'. _I'm here because Roose Bolton is a hateful, slimy_ _snake_. Allyria knew Lord Bolton had left her behind on purpose_,_ to teach her a lesson than women do not belong on the battlefield. "I go where my brother tells me to, my lord." The sweetness in her voice echoed that of Sansa's. She decided to play the role of the obedient sister, when in fact the attack had been her idea. To split the army and distract Tywin's forces while Robb made for Riverrun.

"So, Robb Stark sends his sister to fight his battles? He hides behind your skirts?" Another man said, his voice mocking. Mocking both her and her brother. Allyria was not sure which she took more offense to.

"As you can see, my lord. I'm not wearing any skirts." Her voice was still sweet, but there was an edge to it. But the threat was lost with Tyrion's laughter.

"Where is your brother, my lady?" Tyrion Lannister asked between sips of wine. At least had the courtesy to recognize her title.

"How could I possibly know the answer to that? I have not seen him for a number of days, my lord." Her voice was sincere but her rebuke still earned her a hit. The man's mailed fist almost knocked her head off. Blood filled her mouth as she fell over. In a fit of reckless rage, Allyria pulled herself up and spat the blood from mouth at her abusive escort. Drops of red dotted the man's unprotected face and before wiping them away her raised his hand again and Allyria clenched her teeth, awaiting more pain.

"If you raise another hand against her, I will see to it that your hands are fed to the pigs in the morning." Lord Tywin Lannister's voice was smooth and calm, but it cut like steel against the air. His green eyes were fixed on the man, who quickly lowered his hand and took a step back. He muttered his courtesies before falling silent. Blood still leaked into Allyria's mouth and her head ached so she dared not speak. "Find Lady Allyria a tent and see to it she's taken care of." Lord Twyin waved his hand and Allyria was pulled to her feet and escorted out of the tent. _I wonder if he'll be so kind when he discovers where Robb is._ She thought.


	2. Dinner With Lions

_Always red_. She knew he did it on purpose. The red linen dress was soft against her skin. Red. _Lannister red_. The neckline was high, thankfully, but the dress fit tight around her curves and across her chest and the large belled sleeves were a bit too long. Allyria's constant fiddling with the extra length forced her handmaiden to fold it under and pin it in place. The girl was younger than her, no older than sixteen but she seemed to be a more than competent handmaiden. Allyria wondered where Tywin found her, for she doubted they brought serving girls to war with them. Whores maybe, but not handmaidens.

Her tent was just a stone's throw away from the large pavilion. She wondered which lord it had previously belonged to because it was too well furnished to be a spare. _Perhaps he had died in the battle._ She thought as she paced between two artfully carved wooden armchairs, complete with red cushions. She had not dared to take a seat, for fear someone would come to throw her into a pin with the rest of the prisoners. She was not sure how long it had been before the handmaiden walked in followed by two men carrying a tub. "Lord Tywin requests that you join him and the other lords for supper." She had said as the tub was filled with warm water.

Allyria had survived the battle without any major injuries. A few large bruises covered her arms but the worse of the injuries had been inflicted by her escorts. Her lip was busted and a small, but deep, cut ran along her hairline above her right eye from the man's mailed fist. Everything looked less severe once the blood was removed and her handmaiden styled her auburn hair so it covered the cut. The handmaiden had had a frightful time with Allyria's hair, as most people did. She had the same hair as Robb, auburn and curly. The length gave the curls enough weight to extend them but the thickness still caused trouble for those trying to brush her hair. Over the years, Allyria had learned it was best to just braid it, preferably without brushing, and leave it but the handmaiden was very determined and Allyria let her work. In the end, she pinned the front part back, covering the cut, and left the rest to fall loose down her Allyria's back.

Her body hurt as the handmaiden helped her into the dress. Her joints and muscles were sore from exertion and the bruises ached. After being tied into the red grown, the handmaiden pulled pieces of jewelry from some unknown place and began placing them on Allyria. Since they were made of silver, Allyria did not object. She would not have allowed Tywin to dress her in both red _and_ gold like she was a Lannister of Casterly Rock. She was a Stark of Winterfell. The red dress was enough to hurt her pride. But the rest of her hurt as well and her mother had taught her better than to refuse a gift from a lord, even if the gift was insulting in manner.

Allyria did not want to go to war. She was suppose to go to King's Landing with her father and sisters. But Bran fell and she was needed in Winterfell. Then her mother and Ser Rodrik had gone south and again she was told to remain in Winterfell. When word of their father's imprisonment arrive, Robb called the banners and prepared to march to the capitol. Allyria refused to be left behind again. Theon had tried to talk Robb out of allowing her to attend, but, in the end, her brother permitted it. She wondered if she would come to regret her decision.

Evening had begun to fall when she was escorted from her tent to the pavilion. Torches were being lit as two soldiers walked, not pulled or pushed, her up the steps and into the tent. Everything looked every much the same as it had that afternoon. Same group of men gathered around the same table. Only now the table was covered in plates of food and cups of wine. The conversation fell silent as her presence was announced and she took her seat in the only empty chair. The chair was located to Lord Tywin's direct left. Directly across from her sat who Allyria assumed to be Ser Kevan Lannister, Tywin's younger brother. He was a fat man, with rounded shoulders, fair skin and a massive jaw. His face held a bit more warmth than his brother's. Next to her sat Tyrion and that was all the names she was able to attach to faces.

Allyria thanked Tywin for the dress and his hospitality, as a proper lady should. She wondered what they expect of her; of this woman from the north who fought and survived battles. _A battle._ She reminded herself. _One battle doesn't make you a warrior. _Allyria was just as much of a lady as she was a fighter. She knew what songs to sing and when to be quiet. And the first part of the meal passed in that fashion; full of politeness and courtesies from both sides that did not befit the situation of hostage and captors, in Allyria's opinion. She ate their food and drank their wine and played their game, while waiting for the formalities to subside. When they did, they fell away with great haste.

"Why was your brother not leading the attack this morning?" Ser Kevan asked, drinking from his cup. All the other conversations fell quite and every eye was on Allyria. She had already decided that she would give them honest answers, since it was much too late for them to act on the information she knew. And besides, there were probably already a number of ravens on their way to Green Fork now.

"Because he was leading the rest of his army to Riverrun to break siege, ser." She said sweetly, with a smile. She could fell the heavy weight of Tywin's eyes on her, but she did not return his glare.

"How did you talk Lord Frey into letting you cross the Twins?" Tyrion asked, curious.

"_I_ did not talk him into anything, as I was not present at the negotiations, my lord," Allyria clarified, though she knew who he meant. "But it is my understanding that there will be a number of weddings in the future."

"But I suppose yours will not be one of them." The Imp said with a quiet laugh. Allyria's polite facade dissolved, leaving behind a pained and sad expression. But just as soon as it appeared it was gone again with the facade taking it's place. But it was there long enough for everyone to see. Allyria lowered her eyes to her plate of food and said nothing. "Yes, even a man like Walder Frey would not wed a son to a barren woman. Even a Stark." Tyrion said, taking another bite.

Allyria kept her eyes down, but contemplated stabbing the Imp in the neck with her fork. But she thought better of it and just took another drink of wine. Theon had joke that perhaps she could marry Lord Frey's half-wit son, who they called Jingle-Bell. Instead of laughter, Allyria returned his joke with a sharp shove in the chest. Allyria Stark had never flowered and, now at eighteen and well into womanhood, it was stated she never would. She did not like it when people talked about it. It made her feel broken. Incomplete. _At least I won't have to marry a Frey. Poor Robb can't say that._ She assured herself. Finally, after feeling the silence weighing on her shoulder, she spoke. "We all have our shortcomings, my lord." She said softly but loud enough for the table to hear. A quick laugh went around the table and Allyria allowed herself to smile.

"And what of your brother's shortcomings, my lady?" Ser Kevan questioned once the table fell silent again.

Allyria pretended to think for a moment. "I suppose they're the same as any other eighteen year old boy. But that's why he has advisers, right? A war council?" She shrugged off the question. The conversation fell back on the casual side. The more the lords drank, the louder they talked and laughed. Allyria was mostly forgotten and allowed to poke at her food undisturbed. She did not believe she had drank much wine but she could feel the abnormal warmth of her cheeks. Her head no longer ached, so she did not mind. But soon she was pulled back into the conversation.

"My men swear they saw her cut down twenty men." A lord at the end of the table bellowed.

"I heard thirty." Another challenged. She had not caught their names, if they had even offered them. Everyone was looking at her again, waiting on clarification.

"I only counted nine." She said with a mock sense of pride. More laughter rang out but Allyria was too tired to join them. She longed to curl up beneath the covers on a soft bed, whether it be her bed in Winterfell or the one given to her by her captors, she did not care. Allyria could have hugged Lord Tywin when he dismissed her from the table and had her escorted back to her tent.

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**A/N - Sorry about the wait. Thanks to those who reviewed/followed/favorited. It means a lot! :)**


	3. Dreams and News

_The Others take his gifts._ Allyria thought as Fonia put her into another dress given by Lord Tywin. This one was a dark viridian color, closer to green than blue, high shouldered with a shallow neckline in the shape of a V. Allyria closed her eyes as the handmaiden started on her hair. She had learned that the handmaiden was, indeed, not a whore but the youngest daughter of some lowly lord brought along to work in the kitchens. Allyria found Fonia nice enough; though she wished the younger girl would not feel the need to fill every silence with talk. Especially since Allyria was already irritated.

Despite the comfortable bed and the generous amount of wine to see her off, Allyria had not slept well. It was the dreams that kept her awake, or rather dream, since it was always the same one. When she closed her eyes and drifted towards sleep, she saw him. The northman who she had given the gift of mercy on the previous morning. In her dreams, he was standing but he was just as bloody and the color had gone from his eyes, leaving behind only murky grayness but they were still haunting and full of sadness. The soldier spoke to her, just as he did in the field that day, but his voice and words were different. His voice was hollow, dead and blood gushed from the slit in his throat that Allyria had given him when he spoke.

**Your father dies on a blessed hill,**

**your brother bleeds onto your hand, his hair**

**in your mouth, pressed against you neck,**

**and the whole night will fall.**

The words floated around in her head. Allyria hated them. She dared not to dwell on their meaning, fearing she would find it. Maester Luwin had always said dreams were just dreams, nothing more. She hoped he was right.

Fonia had settled on a similar style for Allyria's hair to the one the previous night; pulled back with the majority hung loose with the only difference being the two thin braids which fell in front. Allyria was sure she looked better than she felt. Her body was stiff and her head still ached. The lack of sleep due to the dream only seemed to make things worse. She was tired and worried. Worried about Robb and her mother. She had not seen them since the day they separated after crossing at the Twins. She was not sure if that had been a week ago or a year. Her mother had told her not to go. Her mother had told her to return to Winterfell. Robb needed someone to help Roose Bolton with diversion but he also needed the experienced lords to successfully lift the siege on Riverrun. So Allyria volunteered. She had heard no word from Riverrun, or at least no one had informed her of any news on the matter. Had Robb won? Or had the Jaime Lannister slayed him as well? _Don't think that. If Robb was dead, you'd know._

The handmaiden excused herself shortly after finishing her hair and walked quietly out of the tent, leaving Allyria to herself. She slouched in the chair and rubbed her temple with her hand, wishing for the ache to go away. She was in a bad position, she knew. Regardless of her luxurious living quarters, Allyria was still a prisoner. She had fallen into the same situation as her sisters and father; held captive by the Lannisters. She poured herself a cup of water, wishing it were wine despite the early hour. She only managed two slips before she put the cup aside. She closed her eyes again and tired to arrange her thoughts. She heard someone enter the tent but Allyria did not open her eyes, believing it was only Fonia.

Instead the voice that cut through the silence belonged to Tyrion Lannister and Allyria let out an audible groan. "Not feeling so well this morning, my lady?" She opened her eyes as Tyrion took a seat in the chair across from her but he was not alone. Another man, lean with dark hair and stubble, lingered off to the side taking in his surroundings. Allyria noticed that he was carrying a sword on his hip. "You know, you're just like your mother, my lady. Poor company." The Imp said after a moment.

Allyria had almost forgotten about her mother's trek into the Vale with Tyrion Lannister as her captive. Catelyn had given her and Robb a brief summary of the events. She figured the silent man in the back must have been the sellsword who championed for Tyrion during his trial. Allyria then remembered her aunt.

"Is my aunt Lysa…well, is it true she's a bit _touched_?" Allyria asked softly, truly curious.

"Yes, Lady Lysa of the Vale does have a tendency to forget her wits. Or what's left of them." Lord Tyrion said, finding himself a cup, but changing his mind when he realized there was no wine. The news upset Allyria. Her aunt had been present at Riverrun when she and Robb were born but she had never actually met her, at least not that she remembered. But Allyria knew her aunt had trouble when it came to bearing children. After numerous stillborns and miscarriages, the gods had given Lysa and her now deceased husband Jon Arryn a son, named Robert, after the late king. But even then, the physical and emotional troll must have weighed heavily on he mind. _Perhaps it is better this way. _Allyria thought. _I'll never have to lose a child._

"But I didn't come here to talk of Lady Lysa but about her brother." Tyrion had her attention, which was evident when Allyria snapped her up head at the mention of her brother. Her thoughts floated back to her dream. _No. Not Robb. _The dwarf must have seen the concern on her face. "It would appear you spoke the truth yesterday. While we were dealing with your forces, your brother marched to Riverrun where he broke my brother's siege on the castle."

Allyria noticed a change in Tyrion when he mentioned his older brother. All laughter seemed to leave him and his face became serious. _He cares deeply for his brother._ Allyria realized. _We have that in common. _"I don't know how but Robb Stark has taken my brother captive." Allyria refused to let signs of relief show on her face. She did not think it would do well in her situation. "The Starks may have one Lannister, but my sister has three Starks in the capitol. And you make four." The dwarf sat his cup empty down and stood from his chair. "We leave for King's Landing in the morning, my lady." He said, walking away.

"We?" Allyria asked, not moving from her own chair.

The Imp did not even turn to look at her as he answer, "You and I, Lady Stark. You and I." The short man disappeared into the sunlight and the sellsword followed quickly behind but not before giving Allyria a questioning look.

Allyria rested her head in hands, trying to comprehend all that she had learned. Robb was alive. And he had taken the Kingslayer captive. But now she too was a prisoner. Was one Lannister worth four Starks? Either way, Allyria knew she could not go King's Landing. There was no getting out of the capitol. If she was going to escape, she would have to do it now.


	4. Escape

The destrier pulled back against the reins and Allyria almost lost her footing on the muddy riverbank. After much swearing on her part and resistance from the horse, Allyria finally managed to lead the animal into the river. Cold water filled her oversize boots as she carefully placed her steps. At its highest, the water only reached Allyria's thigh but the darkness limited her vision and slowed her down. A short while later, Allyria lead the horse out of the river on the other side and on to dry ground. She did not dare to mount the stolen destrier until the light of the Lannister camp was far off to the east. Only then did she climb onto the large warhorse and kicked the animal into a fast run into the night; the hooves colliding with the grass and the clanking of the oversized armor Allyria wore the only sounds in the darkness.

Allyria Stark had waited until nightfall to make her escape. Fonia had spent most of the day with her. She was excited. Apparently, Tywin Lannister had order her father to send Fonia to King's Landing as well, to continue her role as Allyria's handmaiden in the capitol. She had filled Allyria's ear with all the gossip and stories she had heard about King's Landing. Allyria could not share her excitement as she was going to the capitol as a prisoner. While nightfell the handmaiden helped Allyria out of her dress into her loose night gown before leaving her alone in the tent.

She waited until she heard the guard change outside her tent. There were always two of them, flanking the only entrance, and exit, into the tent. Fonia had left a flagon of wine, to help Allyria sleep, on the small side table. She consumed the entire thing to ease her nerves as she sat atop the bed covers and to give her courage. It was dark in the tent with the only light coming for the torches outside but Allyria could still make the outlines of the furniture as stood from the bed.

She went to the looking glass and, without thinking too much about the potential results of a failed escape attempt, broke it with the palm of her hand. The glass splintered and a few pieces fell to the ground. She ignored the sharp pain that erupted from the new cut on her while pushing the shattered looking glass to the ground for good measure. Allyria grabbed a larger piece of glass from the wool carpet just as a guard dressed in full body armor entered her tent to investigate the sound. When he asked what she doing, Allyria mumbled something about being stupid and held her arm out in front of her to show him her injury. The guard moved closer to take a look despite the darkness and Allyria plunged the broken piece of glass into the his exposed neck. He let out a surprised gasp before Allyria covered his mouth to silence any future noises. She only needed the other guard's attention; not the whole camp's. Warm liquid flowed over her hands and she knew it would be red in the light.

When the other guard entered the tent after his friend, Allyria had already moved the body behind the bed, out of view of the entrance Allyria surprised the second guard from behind, having hid herself in the shadows. When both of the guards were dead, Allyria stripped the smaller one of his armor and clothes and quickly took them as her own. The armor was too big for her and the helm fell down over her eyes. She took both swords, tying them to her hip. With the bodies of the guards out of immediate view of anyone walking in and she dressed as one of them, complete with the long red Lannister cloak, Allyria left the tent.

She had to wonder the camp a while before finding the horses. She passed a number of soldiers along the way but no one paid her any attention. If they did, Allyria was certain they would become suspicions at how ill-suited the armor was on her. She wished they had assigned smaller guards to her tent .Ayra was still in her youth and was easily mistaken for a boy but Allyria had outgrown the plainness of childhood and could no longer be mistaken for a man in armor than Robb could be mistaken for a woman in a dress. Still no one looked at her as she led the small horse though the camp and along the river. It was hard to find a suitable crossing in the dark and the one she did find was not the most convenient but Allyria dared not waste any more time in searching.

Allyria rode through the whole night and half the morning before stopping, worried that her horse might collapse beneath her. The appearance of Allyria's direwolf at dawn nearly frightened both the destrier and her to death. It took all of her strength to stay on while the horse reared numerous times at the sight of the dark brown animal. Moreau was probably the most unhelpful wolf out of the litter. At least Shaggydog listened to little Rickon. Moreau was known for running off and not returning for a week or even two, especially if a large group of people were around. Sometimes she listened to Allyria but mostly she did what she wanted.

The direwolf stayed around when Allyria made camp along the river. She tied the still anxious horse to a tree before starting to remove the heavy armor. She kept a sword on her but tied the extra to the saddle. In the daylight, she noticed that a roaring lion was painted in gold on the silver breastplate. Allyria tossed the armor into the river, not wanting to carry around extra weight. She stood there in the sunlight, staring at the ground not quite sure what to do, wearing red trousers, a thin white tunic and heavy leather boots, with two animals staring at her.

A loud rumble came from Allyria's stomach and Moreau cocked her head curiously. She had not brought any food or water with her. She had not know where to look. It was then that she noticed the dried blood on her hands. Allyria quickly ran to the edge of the river and washed her hands. Moreau followed her and jumped into the river, splashing her owner with cold water. Allyria ignored the direwolf as she took handful of drinks from the river. After a while, she led the horse to the river and let it drink. When it was done, she led the horse back to the tree and took a seat against the trunk.

Allyria knew that if she continued to follow the river upstream, she would eventually reach Riverrun. _Robb will be there. And mother._ She thought. _I just have to outrun the Lannister search party. If they even sent anyone._ Allyria heard Moreau walk up from the river before the direwolf dropped a large fish in her lap. She let out a yelp in surprised and nearly threw the fish into the trees before she realized what it was. Instead, she gave the direwolf a thankful pat on the head before gathering wood for a fire.

It was mid-afternoon when Allyria remounted and continued on her way. Moreau ran off ahead of them, leaving Allyria alone again. She rode through the night again; never stopping for more than five minutes to drink and rest the horse. Along the way, she found a number of berries that were safe to eat, which she ate while still in the saddle. It began to rain around dawn on the second day, so Allyria wrapped the red cloak around her shoulders but did not stop. A third day passed in a similar fashion. They found her on the fourth day, while she was asleep in the saddle.

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**A/N - Again, sorry about the wait. I was on spring break and lacked internet access. Thanks to those who reviewed/followed/favorited. I know this chapter was a bit of a filler but the next one should be better. Thanks for reading and I hope everyone enjoyed the season three premiere. :) **


	5. The King in the North

It was hard to keep from crying as the men lead her through the camp. Unlike her walk around the Lannister camp, people noticed her. The curious eyes become somber before their owners lowered them when they recognized Eddard Stark's eldest daughter. But her father was dead now. The soldiers who found her, asleep in her saddle, had told Allyria that. There were five of them. Three northmen and two Freys. Her horse had taken to walking in circles and nibbling at grass while it's rider was asleep. She was only a few miles away from the camp when the scouting party found her. She did not know or recognized any of them but they carried the Stark standard and they knew who she was quick enough. Allyria did not remember much after they told her the fate of her father. She supposed she must have cried because she felt the dried rivers of salt on her face as she walked by what seemed like a thousand tents. She was not sure what time of day it was. Heavy clouds covered the sky and the sun was hidden behind them but it must have been sometime in the afternoon. No one spoke to her, or even looked directly at her for too long. It was like she too had died and now a ghost among the living.

But all thoughts of death disappeared when Allyria was left alone to walk into a tent, larger than all the rest. Robb had somehow changed in the short time Allyria had been gone, though she was not sure in what way or how, since she could not have been gone for more than a week. Her tired feet carried her into her brother's arm where she cried once again. People has always said the two eldest Stark children looked so much alike, which was to be expected considering they were twins. Same auburn curls, same bright blue eyes and high cheekbones. Robb had outgrown her; the top of Allyria's head just reaching his shoulder. When the tears refused to fall any longer, Allyria stepped back from the new Lord of Winterfell.

"You look horrible." He muttered, not letting go of her hands. He was right, too. Her red trousers were splashed with mud and her tunic was still wet from the rain and clung to her body in a rather inappropriate way. One of the men who found her gave Allyria his thick fur cloak to make her a bit more decent. Her hair was ratted and tangled and caked with bits of dried mud. She knew her wounded face was probably red and swollen from crying. Robb looked tired; tired from grief and battle. "We feared you were dead, until we received a raven a few days ago demanding that we trade Jaime Lannister for you. Did they hurt you?" He asked gripping her face to get a better look of the wound on her head.

Allyria put a hand atop her brother's. "I'm fine. Better now that I'm back with my family. Though, perhaps it would be best if I took part in no more battles. I'm a shit swordsman." She admitted with a laugh, which Robb shared.

"You're better than some." But Allyria knew he was just being kind.

"But worse than most. No, I'll not pick up a sword again. But I'm not going back to Winterfell. I'll help with the wounded. I won't let you leave me behind. Not now." _Father is dead. We have to stay together._ She wanted to say but she worried that if she gave voice to the loss than the truth would take root in her heart and she would never be free of it.

Robb only smiled. "You should go see mother. She'll be happy to hear about your new intentions."

* * *

Allyria was happy to be in her own clothes again. She wore a heavy but comfortable blue grown as she sat behind the table next to her mother as the lords and her brother discussed of what to do next. Underneath the table, Catelyn Stark gripped her eldest daughter's hand. She had not let Allyria out of her sight since their reunion that afternoon. Her mother spent most of that time fretting over her wounds. Every little scratch looked like a fatal one to her mother. Even after Allyria had told she would not fight anymore, Lady Catelyn still insisted on lecturing her about the dangers of it and forbidding her from taking part in any future battles. Her mother also insisted on fixing Allyria's hair herself, which she welcomed without any complaints. It made her feel like a little girl again. It made her feel safe. _I may not have my father anymore but I still have my mother._

As night began to fall, they gathered in the shadow the ruin fortress by which the camp was made. Along the way, men offered their condolences to her mother and Allyria, and also expressed their joy at having her back safely. In return for their kindness, she offered them a warm smile and a soft thank you. At the council meeting, she remained silent. In the question of what to do next, Allyria did not have a decent answer. Getting Sansa and Arya back was at the top of her list of course but she wondered how many men would go to war over two girls, even if they were the children of their murdered liege lord.

"The proper course is clear," One lord said loudly, pacing in front of their table. "Pledge fealty to King Renly and move south to join our forces with his." In the days after King Robert's death, both of his brothers, Stannis and Renly, had declared themselves the true king of the Seven Kingdoms. Renly had wed the daughter of Lord Tyrell, who had pledge his fealty, and army, to the youngest Baratheon. Most of Storm's End also declared for Renly, leaving the elder Stannis with just the forces he controlled at Dragonstone in the Narrow Sea.

"Renly is not the king." Robb said, his voice even but forceful.

"You can not mean to hold to Joffrey, my lord?" The lord asked as he stopped pacing. "He put your father to death."

"That doesn't make Renly king. He's Robert's _youngest_ brother. Bran can't be Lord of Winterfell before me and Renly can't be king before Stannis." Robb explained. Mummers of individual conversations began to break out among the lords of the North and the Twins.

"Do you mean to declare us for Stannis, my lord?" The same lord asked.

"Renly is not right." Another said loudly.

Then Lord Umber rose from his seat. Greatjon was a large man, nearly seven feet tall. A formidable worrier, he commanded attention and others were usually more than willing to give it. "My lords," Silence fell where there had once been a thousand voices. "Here's what I say to these two kings." And he spat at the ground and a number of laughs and cheers from the others followed. "Renly Baratheon is nothing to me. Nor Stannis neither. Why should they rule over me and mine from some flowery seat the south? What to they know of the Wall, or the Wolfswood? And their gods are wrong." Another round of laughter.

Allyria shifted in her seat, unsure of where Lord Umber was going with his speech. Robb too looked a bit unsure. Her mother squeezed her hand beneath the table. Greatjon continued. "Why shouldn't we rule ourselves again? It was the dragons we bowed to. And now the dragons are dead." The man drew his sword and Allyria held her breath. "There," He said pointing his sword at Robb. "Sits the only king I mean to bend my knee too. The King in the North!" And finally, with his sword on the ground in front of him, the Lord of House Umber knelt before her brother.

In silence, Robb stood from the table. Another lord also stood up and took a place next to Greatjon. "I'll have peace on those terms. They can keep their red castle and their iron chair too. The King in the North!" And he too knelt before her brother.

Next rose Theon Greyjoy. "Am I your brother? Now and always?" He asked.

Robb nodded his head. "Now and always." Allyria could not help but smile at the exchange.

Theon unsheathed his sword just as the previous two had and knelt before her brother. "My sword is yours in victory and defeat. From this day until my last." He vowed and then bowed his head.

"The King in the North!" Greatjon bellowed at the top of his lungs and the other lords took up the call. They all began shouting and pulling their swords from their scabbards and kneeling before her brother. Allyria and her mother remained seated at as Westeros' newest king was declared.

"What does this mean?" Allyria whispered to her mother as the chant of "The King in the North" continued to fill the night air.

"It means winter is coming."


	6. Kept Promises

Allyria could not believe they actually made her a crown. _They exalted Robb, not me. _She thought as she looked at her self in the looking glass. The round headpiece was made of bronze and sat low on her head. Six spires sprouted from the base with smaller ones filling the space between them. A small polished sapphire was placed in each of the larger spire and were surrounded by detailed scrollwork. It was light atop her head but Allyria still felt like it was crushing her. It was nothing compared to the tiaras Queen Cersei had worn during her visit to Winterfell, but Allyria still found it too extravagant. _Robb may be a king but I am not a_ _princess._ She removed the crown and placed it back in the velvet lined box without a second thought. Robb did not walk around with his crown on and nor would she.

They were still camped in the shadow of the ruined fortress along the river but the next day they would resume their march to Riverrun. A small group of Lannister men where still causing chaos in the Riverlands, raiding towns and burning fields. And rumor had it that some Lannister, a distant relation of Tywin, was massing an army at Casterly Rock further to the west. Eddard Stark was dead but the war was not. It was now a war for a kingdom. A war of rebellion. But they were not the only ones rebelling against King's Landing. Both Stannis and Renly Baratheon had named themselves king of Westoros. Stannis declared that he was King Robert's rightful heir, though Allyria was not sure how that would be true considering Robert had two sons, while Renly seemed to think he could just take the Iron Throne by force alone. Almost half the realm had rebelled against the Lannisters and the boy king who took her father's head. Three kings fighting one. _As long as it stays that way, we might have a chance. A chance to get Sansa and Arya back._ Allyria thought. But that would not matter if Robb lost this war. If Robb lost, there was no going home. The Lannisters would kill them for treason.

Allyria had kept her promise and spent most of her time with the wounded. There had not been any fighting since Whispering Wood and all the serious injuries had been taken care by someone more experienced than her. Allyria was no trained field nurse but she did what she could which was mostly just changing bandages and offering water. Theon Greyjoy had followed her around for most of the morning, mumbling something about how a princess needs protecting. Allyria did not mind at first but then he started to get in her way. Soon after Allyria started giving him small tasks to do to help, Theon slipped away from the responsibility and left her alone.

Allyria's grey dress was plain, without any embroidery or lace. Her dark green surcoat was just as plain and her hair was fashioned into a single braid. She wore no jewelry and her crown was safety put away in the box in her tent yet people still called her 'princess'. Even when her hands and small white apron were covered in dried blood, she was still Princess Allyria. Even the other lords of the north, who had always affectionately called her 'little Ally' when she was a child whenever they would visit Winterfell, were now calling her 'princess'. Just as they now called Robb 'the King in the North'. _I wonder if Bran and Rickon are princes yet._ Allyria thought.

She spotted him as she left the large tent reserved for the wounded. She had almost forgotten that he had been taken prisoner. He was chained to a large wooden pole about five tent lengths away. Allyria could not tell if he was asleep or dead. Hate and anger stirred in her stomach and she could almost taste it in the back of her mouth. Her emotions, not her head, forced her feet to move in his direction. He heard Allyria approaching before she reached him and turned his head to towards the sound of her footsteps. Allyria came to a sudden stop in front of him, unsure of what her intentions had been.

Jaime Lannister looked very different yet very much the same from the last time she had seen him, during the royal visit to Winterfell. His once shiny blond hair was muddied with dirt, sweat and blood. His clothes were in a similar condition, dirtied and bloodied and torn in a few places. A thin growth of blond hairs covered his chin and cheeks, a large cut was visible above his left eye and dried blood dotted the rest of his face. But despite being chained and taken captive, the Kingslayer still managed to have arrogance etched across his face. A smirk appeared too when he recognized Allyria.

* * *

Jaime Lannister shifted on the ground again to get a better look at the person standing in front of him, for all the good it did. The thick wooden beam he was chained to made it impossible to get comfortable. The shackles on his wrist were worse. The iron was tight against his skin, cutting into it. His shoulders and arms were sore from his hands being chained behind him. She was a pretty girl, for a Northerner. _Not as pretty as Cersei._ Jaime thought. Her auburn hair was lazily braided and dried blood was smeared across her hands. She stood before him just as Catelyn Stark had done a few nights previously. Allyria looked very much like her mother, more Tully than Stark. Jaime could almost feel the hate radiating off of her.

"Lady Allyria, what do I owe the honor? Or should I be calling you 'Princess Allyria' since your brother is now a king." _A king of a cold wasteland. _Jaime added in his mind. He had heard the chants of 'THE KING IN THE NORTH' before Ned Stark's widow had hit him across the face with a rock. He noticed a wave of uncertainty swirl beneath the stoic mask on her face. She looked like she had half a mind to just walk away. But she was Ned Stark's daughter. She was not going to run away. _Lord Stark refused to run away and he lost his head. _But the stupid girl remained silent and stared at him from above, blue eyes on green.

Then Allyria kneeled in front of him and roughly grabbed Jaime's face in her small hand and turned it to the side. Her fingers were soft against his skin but Jaime was also aware of the bandage wrapped around her palm. She brushed a finger over the cut above his eye, judging it. Jaime could not remember if it was a result of a battle or Lady Stark's rock. Allyria let his face go before retrieving a wineskin and a damp cloth from some place unseen by Jaime. With the cloth, she cleaned the skin around the cut, careful not to reopen the wound. The girl was close enough to Jaime that he could see her own head wound, a thin cut near her hairline. "What happened to your head?" Jaime asked causally.

"What happened to yours?" The girl practically spat back at him.

He ignored her hostility. "I asked you first."

"And you're the one chained to pole." She said more calmly. Jaime had to laugh but in the end his question received no answer.

So, he asked another. "Are you fucking him?" A thousand emotions passed over Allyria's face but Jaime was only able to recognize shock, confusion and anger before they were replaced with something else.

For a moment Jaime thought she was going to slap him. But then she asked, "Who?"

Jaime nodded his head in the general direction from where Allyria had walked up from. "That Greyjoy boy? The one that follows you around?" Jaime had seen the boy earlier that day, trailing after the girl. He had also noticed the same thing during his time in Winterfell, though her brother or the bastard was always there too.

Allyria's face twisted in offense as she realized who he meant. "Theon? I'm not- why woul- I'm not _fucking_ anyone!" She was practically yelling as she shifted on her feet and rose to a standing position. Jaime kept smirking as she again appeared to wrestle with the idea hitting of him but in the end her courtesies won. "Have a good day, ser." Jaime did not watch her walk away but instead resigned himself to another night of boredom and being uncomfortable. _I miss Cersei._ He thought before closing his eyes.


	7. Peace Terms

Allyria was still upset about Jaime Lannister's question hours later as she walked with her mother to Robb's tent. She had washed and fix her hair, leaving it to fall down her back in heavy waves. Her crown was cool against her skin where the two touched. The council was smaller than the one on the night they made her brother king. Allyria recognized Greatjon, sitting to Robb's immediate right; Lord Karstark, Lady Mormont of Bear Island, Ser Stevron Frey, who was Lord Walder's first born son and heir to the Twins; and quiet Roose Bolton sitting among a few other lords Allyria could not put names to. Robb sat at the end of the table, wearing his crown of bronze. Allyria took a seat to her brother's left and her mother sat next to her, which happened to be next to Theon Greyjoy. She thought to what Ser Jaime had said and wondered if other people thought the same. _He was wrong though_. _Theon doesn't follow me around._

Theon followed Robb around and Allyria just happened to do the same. She had followed her brother out of their mother's womb and Allyria would be perfectly content if she followed him to the grave. When Jon came, and then Theon, nothing changed. Allyria loved Jon and Theon just as much as her younger siblings but Robb was _her_ brother, her twin. Yes, she loved and cared for Theon Greyjoy. _But I'm not fucking him._ She thought. Allyria knew of Theon's frequent visits to the town brothel, he made no secret of it, but he never made any suggestions towards Allyria herself. He often made rude jokes when she was around but he did the same thing when she was gone. She had always been Robb's sister and Ned Stark's daughter to Theon. Or so she believed.

After the greetings and some more condolences were over, the flap of the tent opened and two guards escorted an unbound man to the front of the table, where he remained standing. The man was young with dark hair and looked like he had spent more than one night in a cell sleeping on the ground. "You're Ser Alton Lannister?" Robb asked, looking the man over; judging.

"Yes, Your Grace." Alton Lannister barely lifted his eyes off the ground with his reply.

"I offer your cousins peace if they meet my terms," The King in the North said. "First, your family must release my sisters. Second, my father's bones must be returned to us so he may rest beside his brother and sister in the crypts beneath Winterfell. And the remains of all those who died in his service must also be returned so their families can honor them with proper funerals."

"An honorable request, Your Grace." Ser Alton said, nodding his head in agreement. But Robb was not finished.

"Third, Joffrey and the Queen Regent must renounce all claim to the dominion of the North. From this time until the end of time, we are a free and independent kingdom." The usual round of 'King of in the North' echoed among those sitting at the table while Ser Alton stood comfortably. "Neither Joffrey nor any of his men shall step foot on any of our lands again. If he disregards this command, then he shall suffer the same fate as my father. Only I don't need a servant to do my beheading for me."

"These are...," Alton started. "Your Grace?"

Robb stood. He was taller than Ser Alton despite being younger. "These are my terms. If the Queen Regent and her son meet them, I'll give them peace. If not, I'll litter the south with Lannister dead." Her brother's voice was calm but stern enough. It reminded Allyria of their father.

"King Joffrey is a Baratheon, Your Grace." Alton said quietly, never moving.

"Oh, is he?" Robb said with a smile. Allyria was confused by that but she stayed silent. "You'll ride at daybreak, Ser Alton." And with that Alton Lannister was escorted out of the tent and Robb returned to his seat. "What other news from the South?" Robb asked after a minute.

"Stannis has set sail from Dragonstone bound for the Stormlands and we believe he intends to fight Renly, who has returned to the Stormlands from Highgarden." Greatjon said while looking over a small scroll of parchment.

"Why strike his brother when he should be striking King's Landing?" Theon asked.

It was Lord Karstark who answered. "Many of the Storm lords have ignored Stannis and declared for Renly despite him being Robert's youngest brother. I suppose Stannis wants them back."

"With the forces from Highgarden, Renly has over one hundred thousand men marching behind him. If we joined with him, we'd outnumber the Lannisters two to one." Greatjon said, taking a drinking of wine.

Robb was silent for a moment, thinking. "My mother will go to Renly in the Stormlands." Allyria did not have to look at her mother to know she was taken aback. Earlier that day, she had mentioned to Allyria that she was planning on got back to Winterfell, and taking Allyria with her. Now it appeared that the plan would have to wait. Despite her anger, Catelyn Stark did not protest.

"What about Stannis?" Allyria asked. "He has ships." She did not know a lot about King's Landing but she knew the capitol overlooked Blackwater Bay. Ships might be helpful if they aimed to take the city.

"Stannis is a proud man. He'll never help you as long you're trying to steal half his kingdom." Greatjon said, now staring into a empty cup. "Still, we should send someone."

Her brother did not pause to think this time. "Allyria will go." Allyria opened her month to complain but was stopped short when Robb continued. "Send anyone else and Stannis is liable to put their heads on a pike."

Robb dismissed the council after that. Catelyn decided to leave rather than argue with her son but Allyria stayed behind in the tent. When they were alone, Robb removed his crown and set it gently on the table. "Your Grace, a word please?" Allyria said in the sweetest voice she could muster.

In return, Robb gave his sister a rather exasperated look, unamused by her attempt at a joke. "We're alone, Allyria. You don't have to call me that." He said quietly as he stood up to pour himself a glass of wine before returning to his seat. _He's tired_. Allyria thought. _And this war has just begun_.

"As long as you don't call me 'princess'." Allyria joked again. She spotted a hint of smile on her brother's mouth before he took a drink. "What makes you think Stannis won't kill me?" Much like her mother, she was not looking forward to her journey to the Stormlands.

"He won't. Out of respect for our father." Allyria's heart dropped at the mention of her dead father.

She decided to change the subject by getting to the point. "What did you mean by Joffrey not being a Baratheon?"

Robb's face screwed up into an expression of what Allyria thought to be disgust and anger. "Stannis sent out ravens. Joffrey is Jaime Lannister's bastard son." He said before taking another drink.

_Jaime Lannister's bastard_ - "With the Queen? His sister?" She was practically yelling.

Her brother simply nodded. "The little girl and boy too." Allyria's stomach twisted and for a moment she thought she was going to vomit. But she kept it down. _They're twins. Would people think Robb and I..._but she pushed the thought from her mind before she could complete it.

"If this is true then it gives our rebellion more legitimacy. Joffrey has no authority to rule over anyone, let alone the North." She was not sure if Robb heard her because he reminded silent for a long time. And when he did finally speak to her it was simply to wish her a good night's sleep and a safe journey.


	8. The Stormlands

They left just before dawn the next morning. Despite all her brother's wishes, Allyria had not slept well. It was the dream again. The dead soldier with the haunting eyes and hollow voice. _Your father dies on a blessed hill._ The words rang in her head as he mounted her horse, the same destrier she had stolen from the Lannister camp. They said Lord Stark was executed at the Great Sept of Baelor. She knew many called Baelor Targaryen 'Baelor the Blessed' but Allyria could not recall it that was built on a hill. _That doesn't matter. It's just a dream. _Allyria thought as she prepared herself on the long ride south.

The group bound for the Stormlands was composed of only ten people; Allyria, her mother and eight guards. The guards were mostly men from Winterfell but there were a number of Freys and a Glover. The squire who helped her mount the stolen destrier suggested that she change horses. A palfrey perhaps, smaller and better built for travel. But Allyria declined his offer, determined to stick with the large black warhorse. The animal had led Allyria back to safety and back to her brother and mother so she found it hard to part with the horse. She dressed plainly and did not bring her crown. Stannis was a king now and Allyria felt that it would not do well to remind him more than necessary that there were other kings in Westeros.

After leaving the Riverlands they were forced to abandon the road for open fields to avoid any Lannister forces. Even before that, two scouts were always a mile ahead of the main group to watch for any danger. They turned away from the Blackwater Rush, which flowed directly to King's Landing and out into Blackwater Bay, and crossed into the Reach in the morning of the second day. The sky was clearer than it had been when Allyria fled the Lannister camp and the intensity of the sun was starting to make her regret the heavy dress she wore.

Allyria was not sure how many days had passed before they crossed over into the Stormlands. The flat, smooth lands of The Reach turned into small rolling hills and then into mountains. One of the Freys in their group mentioned that the mountains of the Vale were much larger than the ones that bordered the Stormlands but steep inclines slowed the horse down all the same. Mention of the Vale reminded Allyria of her aunt Lysa and the many ravens her mother had sent to the Eyrie asking for help. Either a response nor soldiers came from Lysa Arryn and the only help from the Vale came from Allyria's great uncle, Brynden Tully, who accompanied her mother when she left the Eyrie.

They made camp when they were just north of Storm's End. In the morning, their group split in two. Allyria rode east with four guards while her mother went west. Grey rain clouds hung low in the morning sky and the air smelled of saltwater. Her auburn hair was pulled back into a single braid, to keep it out of her face when heavy gusts of wind swept over them. Despite the wind, it was still quite warm so Allyria dressed in a thin blue grown under a darker cloak with a hood, in case rain started to fall.

It was mid-day, though it was hard to tell since sun was mostly hidden behind the clouds, when they met them. Allyria saw the banners first. They were the standard Baratheon yellow but there was something else in the center, around the crowned stag. As the riders got closer, she was able to make out a fiery red heart enclosing the stag. _That's strange_. But Allyria did not have much time to ponder why Stannis Baratheon would change his banner.

They met on a hill overlooking the older Baratheon's camp. There two men on dark destiers and two more standard bearers. The first man to speak, who Allyria assumed to be in charge of the small party, was an older man with large ears and thinning brown hair. "Speak your name and business here, my lady?" His tone was firm but not unkind.

"I am Lady Allyria Stark and I come here as an envoy seeking an audience with your liege on behalf of my brother Robb, Lord of Winterfell and King in the North." She tried to make her voice strong but not too demanding. She was a guest here and it would not do well to offend and upset any unnecessary persons.

The man with the large ears considered her for a second. "Follow me, my lady."

Stannis Baratheon's camp was built along the coast and smaller than her brother's. The tents were mostly white, save for a few made out of yellow cloth, which Allyria assumed belong to important people. Just off shore were a large number of ships, more than she had ever seen. What Stannis Baratheon lacked in land forces, he almost made up for in his navy.

No one paid her, or her party, any particular attention as they followed the man, who she learned was Ser Axell Florent. Along the way, he offered his condolences for her father's death. _Can your condolences give my father his head back? If not, then I don't want them._ But she thanked him all the same. She was tired of people's sympathies. All they did was remind her that she was fatherless. She was left in a small, but well-furnished tent to wait as Stannis as altered of her arrival. Her guards were given an adjacent tent but Gawen Glover insisted on waiting with her while the others tended to the horses. A young boy no older than ten carried in a flagon of wine and plate of cut fruit then but all but run out of the tent again.

She poured herself of a cup and drank heavily from it. Allyria wondered if she was developing a bad habit with her use of alcohol. The thought made her exchange the cup for a small piece of apple before sitting down in a craved armchair. Glover stood by the entrance of the tent, back straight and his hand never leaving the hilt of his long sword. _He should be doing this_. Allyria thought. _Not me. I wasn't taught to treat and negotiate with lords and kings. That was Robb. I am just his sister._ She was good with sums, could sew almost as good as Sansa and secondhand training from Robb and Jon had made her a less-than-decent swordsman. Sansa would become the real lady of the family, if she was not already. Allyria was just an odd combination of her two little sisters.

Allyria let out a quiet sigh before removing her hooded cloak. A few minutes later, Ser Florent returned. "King Stannis will see you now, my lady."

* * *

**So sorry for the delay but I had finals and I had to move out of my dorm and I didn't have time to update. Thanks for all your reviews. :) - Madison**


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